All the king's horses and All the king's men
by Lose-Yourself-Today
Summary: Arthur is trying to rebuild his life. He doesn't know if a damaged, broken person like him can ever find happiness. What if one person does succeed in his rehabilitation? What then? Contains : Sadness, Rape, Yaoi (Later chapters) Don't read if you can't handle it.


**A/N : This is a story I was inspired to write by the state of the world right now. It's morbid, with details I would suggest some of you not read. But for those of you who do, please tell me what you think.**

**Possibly a lot of grammar mistakes, so watch out of them!**

* * *

Pain.

Unbearable, unending pain. That's all I feel. All the time. Sometimes it'll diminish to a dull throb, but just as I feel myself becoming whole again I'll feel it rush back, tearing through my insides. The impact so forceful that it'll knock me down, make me lose my breath and struggle to survive.

Everyday is a new challenge.I used to think I'd become strong enough to handle it but I just don't know anymore.

_My name is Arthur Kirkland. I am 20 years old. I am a college student. I am happy. I deserve to live a happy and full life._

That's my mantra. I have to recite it in my head at least twenty times before I can breathe again. I just wish I could believe it.

*Tring Tring Tring*

The shrill sound of my alarm bores through my skull. I don't remember waking up. I don't remember going to sleep. The only thing I am aware of is the pain. I feel by body start to awaken. I feel tears sliding down my cheek. How long have I been crying? When did I start? I can't bear to think of it as I wipe the tears of my face. Crying is my only respite, the only way I know to numb my pain. Even if it is just a little bit. Even if it's only for one more second.

The alarm goes off again and I realize this time I have to wake up. I need to make myself acceptable for society. My eyes are less puffy than usual which makes hiding the signs all that much easier. I silently watch as the tear-stained face in front of me transforms into something I could walk down the street with, without terrifying children. I've done it a thousand times, and yet I'm still amazed at the miracles water and deep breathing can perform. I am, for all intents and purposes, completely stable and fine. It's good because that is exactly what I need to portray.

I walk out of my dorm and immediately run into Kiku. Kiku is a japanese friend of mine who is shy and quiet just like me. We get along quite well. He's the only person I've ever met who has been okay with being kept at an arms length. We spend most of our time together, but he's never asked me anything about my home or about my family. Sometimes, when he's feeling homesick he'll tell me about his life back in Japan. Sometimes he allows me to comfort him, but he never asks for more. He never probes into my life, and I'm most grateful for that. I don't think I would be able to handle it if he did.

As we walk to class,he tells me about his crazy roommates Ludwig and Feliciano, who are always running around creating trouble for him. He also states that I'm extremely lucky to have a room all to myself. But he doesn't ask why. He never asks why and for that I'm grateful.

If anyone else had asked I would have just shrugged and said, "I guess I'm just lucky."

But Kiku would know I'm lying. Kiku knows me better than most of my friends, and yet he knows nothing about me. It seems strange doesn't it?

But not to me. Kiku knows I can't lie to him as I can to the others. So he doesn't ask. He knows that I've opened up to him as much as I can. I fear the day he may actually ask for more. The day that I'll lose him, because Kiku is the one thing keeping me from falling apart. He keeps me from the things I'd sooner forget. When I'm with him and our other friends, it's easy for me to pretend I'm normal. I can forget all the horrible things and just concentrate on their smiling faces and feign one of my one. I can feel alive.

So you see why he's so important.

By the time we reach the academic block, Ludwig and his brother Gilbert have joined us.

I felt the cold cut into my clothes. I hate the cold and I hate winter. The steps were so icy that I had to take each step carefully. I tried to put my hand on the railing but it was freezing and I couldn't hold onto it even with my gloves on. I was so busy trying not to fall I had lost track of the conversation.

"-are you Arthur-san?"

Kiku's voice brought me back to the world around me.

"I asked if you were going home for christmas."

Christmas had always been a sore topic for me. As a kid I would love decorating the tree, eating holiday food and singing christmas carols. But all those happy memories had been destroyed a long time ago. Now Christmas simply reminded me of What-ifs. What if my parents didn't have a tradition of drinking on christmas eve? What if they had never conceived me?

But I told myself not to dwell on it. I had decided long ago not to blame my parents for what had happened to me. I needed them to think I was alright. I need to give them what I could never have.

A chance to be happy.

"No. No I'm not. I think I'll just stay here and take some extra-credit courses over break."

"How boring!" said Gilbert. The man lacked tact. "Ow."

His brother elbowed him in the ribs. "How come Arthur? Does your family not celebrate the festival?"

Keep a smile on your face. Calm and composed. Breathe. Answer his question. Remain casual. Don't break down. I had long since figured out how to pretend everything was fine.

"We did when I was younger. But after the teenage years our christmas traditions deteriorated. I don't see the point."

I really hoped I sounded like just another sullen teenager who decided that being broody was "cool". Or something. Most of my speech structure comes from what I hear others say. It's the easiest way to survive.

The others nodded so I assumed they understood.

"Me and mien bruder are going on a beer tasting tour. We're going to travel all over Europe doing what we like to do best - Drinking Beer." Gilbert said grinning.

It's true. There was nothing Gilbert rated above beer.

I laughed because it seemed like an appropriate place to laugh.

"I wish I could join you." I said.

"Why don't you?" Ludwig asked. "I mean, it's not like you need to do the courses. You're a straight A student."

"Nah." I said shaking my head, but before I was asked for an excuse I shifted the conversation.

"What about you Kiku?"

"Oh. I was abre to get a cheap prane ticket. So I'rr be going back to Japan." His accent gets worse as the cold progresses.

"Awesome." Gilbert said excitedly before starting a long conversation about sushi.

-(*)-

The library is supposed to be a sanctuary. And most of the time it is, but not today. Normally the library is filled with people trying to be quiet but failing, it's filled with warm scents and a myriad of feelings coming together to make you feel safe and secure. But today the library was practically empty. It seemed cold and neglected.

I opened my books in an effort to study. Facts make everything better.

Dura mater.

Neurotransmitters.

But I can't seem to concentrate. I thought that I had handled today's talk well. I hadn't broken down. I hadn't run away. I hadn't cried. I thought I had finally become just a tiny bit better. But the nightmares came back to haunt me with a vengeance.

.

.

.

I remember Christmas morning when I was nine years old. I had walked into my parents room but no matter how much I tried they wouldn't wake up. Last night when my father had been drinking his adult juice he had said that if it wasn't for their "little christmas tradition" I wouldn't have been born. I understood later but at the time I was extremely confused and a little upset but I decided not to pester them. I really wanted to open my presents.

I didn't know what was going to happen. I was a child. I didn't know it would be the last time I'd see that house.

I don't remember much from that day. The parts I do remember, I wish I could forget.

I don't remember the gift my parents got me that day. It was a car or a game or something. But I remember wanting it, I remember being overjoyed when I opened the wrapping paper. I wanted to tear open the box and show it off to everybody. Sometimes I wonder where that box went. I wonder if it's in some corner gathering dust or if my parents had just simply thrown it away. My parents never told me, possibly because of how it reminded them of the incident. I could never bring up the courage to ask. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing mattered after that day.

I remember hearing the crash in the kitchen and going in to find my brother with a bloody hand. He smelled like he had been drinking too. Only it had the opposite effect on him, than it did on my parents. He would always become angry and violent. He would even hurt me sometimes, but I would never tell. We were brothers. I couldn't tell. I couldn't rat him out.

Mostly because I was afraid no one would believe me.

After that all I remember is him striking me on the head with a vase.

Then, only pain.

You can't imagine how many times I had wished that I could go back in time and tell myself to run away. Screw Time paradoxes.

I just want the life I could have had.

I just want to feel alive again.

Is that so much to ask?

.

.

.

I felt somebody nudge my shoulder. I flinched. I didn't like it when people touched me. I guess he must have assumed that I had fallen asleep. I might have. I just didn't have the strength to care anymore.

"Arthur, are you okay?"

It was the librarian. He was a nice person. He always looked out for the students and hardly ever ssshhhhh-ed anybody.

I rubbed my eyes pretending to just wake up, while I was actually checking for tears. Thankfully, there were none.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I must have dozed off."

"You work too hard. You should probably just go home and go to sleep."

"Yeah, I'll do that." I said packing up my books.

The librarian smiled at me and walked away.

And so I began the routine. Clear your mind. Walk home. Look at the grass. Look at the side-walk. Climb up the stairs. Put you key in the lock. Turn the key. Go in. Take a shower. Microwave some sort of unhealthy ready-to-eat meal. Sit on the couch. Turn on the T.V.. Put the food in you mouth.

Sometimes it makes me sad how empty my life is. But it's the only way I know how to live now.

It's a long time before I realize what I'm watching. It's some generic rom-com about a woman who's looking for Mr. Right. I sit there, just watching until it reaches the scene where they "Break-up" and she starts to cry. I watch as she sits there wallowing in self-pity, feeling sorry for herself and something inside me just snaps.

Why is it that this stupid woman get to live a normal life?

She's crying over some idiotic boyfriend she's known for a month, pretending like she'll never be able to live again. She doesn't know what pain is!

I throw my plate against the wall effectively breaking it. I'm furious. I break more things, but I don't care.

All I can think about is how it's not fair.

It's not fair.

Why does she get to be happy? Why does this moron get to be okay?

Why do I have to be miserable every single day? Why do I have to struggle to survive? Why do I have to feel a little piece of me die every time I get out of bed in the morning?

It's not fair.

I feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. My face is burning. I'm angry and frustrated and all I can do is break down and cry.

I'm sick of myself. Sick of feeling weak and vulnerable.

Why can't I just move on? Why can't I end this cycle of hopelessness and desperation?

_I wake up. I go to class. I go home. I cry until I pass out. I wake up. I go to class. I go home. I cry until I pass out. I wake up. I go to class. I go home. I cry until I pass out._

Why won't it even end?

I put my hands on my ears trying to drown out the memories. One voice in particular stands out today. A doctor I had met in a hospital when I was recovering. Maybe he said those words, maybe he didn't. The facts didn't help me now that I was trapped in my own personal hell.

_You know why it happened don't you? It's because you deserved it you little slut-_

No. No. NO!

I'm curled up in a ball in the closet. I try to hide but the voice follows me everywhere I go.

_Is that all you can do? Sit there and cry you fucking baby!_

I don't know what else to do! Please! Leave me alone!

_Crybaby! It's your fault. You could have stopped it._

No I couldn't. I was just a child. I was only a child.

_You could have told someone._

I tried. I was too afraid.

_You could have just run away._

There was no place for me to go.

.

.

There's silence for a moment before all the voices come back making my head pound.

_It's your fault you're so screwed up. Do you think he would have-_

I hear myself screaming trying to drown out the sound.

_You still can't trust anyone can you? becau-_

My throat and lungs are burning but I scream louder. I have to stop it.

_even stared to enjoy it in the end, you little whore. Ho-_

I scream as loudly as I possibly can, but it's not enough. It's never enough.

_You don't deserve to live._

_Why don't you just die!_

_Kill yourself! It's all your good for! You stu-_

I don't know how long I lay there screaming and crying. At some point my body decided to shut down.

Who knew passing out from exhaustion would be so peaceful?

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**A/N: Reviews would be really helpful. I'll update as soon as I can.**


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